The Mark
by Ms Snuffles
Summary: There is always a reason why people are so vindictive and evil. And Bellatrix Lestrange is no exception. (One Shot)


**A very different take on one of Voldemort's most evil and ruthless Death Eaters to the one in My Favourite Stories. Enjoy! Mwahahahahahahahaha**

**Disclaimer: I'm not so big headed as to claim the fame for Harry Potter, honestly, how rude of you to doubt my loyalty to JK Rowling!**

"**How Rude!" (Me)**

"**I Know!" (My friend. Khamsin will know who!)**

The Mark 

She pulled back her robe and for just an instance, one could see the last vestiges of her innocence fade away.  
A sheet of black hair fell down her back, away from a slightly curved, pale face. Dark smoky eyes kept their gaze focussed on the floor at the hem of his robes. Bowing low she opened the door with confident assurance, pointed nose high in the air. But should one have cared to examine the murky depths of her soul, they would see a trace of fear, one that always lurked there, not as of the last hour, where it had been magnified to unnatural proportions. She slammed the door and heard its bang resounding in the echo for a second before it was replaced by a loud rumble of thunder. Glancing up into the sky she saw a mass of swirling grey clouds that were pouring torrents of rain mercilessly to the earth. Clouds so akin to her eyes they could have been reflected and blended perfectly in them. Long dark eyelashes caught the fierce droplets of rain as she turned and found her way awkwardly down the hill into the village of Little Hangleton.

Entering the dilapidated Inn that was her temporary home, she made her way up the rotting wooden steps, pausing only a second to gaze at the bar and resist the temptation to drink herself stupid.  
Closing the door of her draughty room she lit the candles on her dresser with a wave of her wand and faced the full-length mirror on her closet. It was cracked across the middle, so that her body appeared distorted, sliced in half.  
She stood like that for a split second and then as though in the middle of a fit of anger she tore every piece of clothing from her wet body and stood staring, naked at her reflection in the mirror. _I never want to wear them again _she thought _I never want to be reminded of it, ever._

She felt slightly calmer after removing her clothes and although she was shivering like mad, there was some sort of reassurance that this was her, no strings attached, completely bare, revealed, no secrets.  
Turning her head she looked at left forearm.  
And there it was.  
Bleeding profusely through the bandage.  
There was the reason she was violated, the reason she wasn't her anymore.

Unwrapping the bandage, allowing blood to drip onto the wooden floor she examined every inch of the new Mark emblazoned onto her pale skin.  
A snake protruded from the open mouth of a leering skull and the whole thing dripped with her lifeblood. Still red raw she winced at the thought of it burning…of his summons…  
She walked over to the bed and lying down on it tried to force every memory out of her mind. How young she had been, how foolish she had been, how completely vulnerable to emotion.

_The same darkness, lit only by the meagre light of two candles and the harsh summer rain pounding the glass of the windows. His hands crept around her waist and she met his intimacy by pushing herself against his body, arms around his neck, fiercely kissing every part of his face. He pushed her against the wall near the bed and ripped the robes from her body, kissing her neck, her breasts. Black hair tangling over her smoky eyes, he pulled her to the bed and she came willingly. He caressed every part of her, she arched her back and urged him on, willing him to finish what he had started. What she thought was love coursed through her body, lust driving her on towards ecstasy._

How many times had she thought it was love? A countless number, should she recall every single one she'd be closer to suicide than she was now. That was how he'd been until today, human on the outside, a monster on the inside. And when she'd seen him today his outer exterior had personified his ugly nature. He was no longer handsome ex-Head boy Tom Riddle. He was Lord Voldemort.  
Having undergone his many magical transformations (the reason he'd refused to see her for six months), he'd summoned her today, and she'd gone…gullible that she was…thinking he'd want to rekindle that burning desire…  
But no, the only reason he'd even come near her was because he'd wanted her to join the Dark Side. She'd wanted to do that anyway, she had just hoped there was something else, someway to escape Rodolphus and that boredom her mother liked to call a marriage.  
She didn't shed a tear, and it was just as well.  
A searing pain shot through her arm, stinging and causing the leaking blood to hiss.  
It was time to go.

**Now be good fanfiction readers and Harry Potter fans and hit that review button at the bottom…go on…or I'll set Voldemort on you…Mwahahahahahahahaha**

**A note about ships: HMS Ron and Hermione (can't remember the funny version) forever and also (just because Kettles will bug me) HMS Loony Lions (Harry and Luna) sailing forever into the gloriously romantic sunset.**

**Ps If I have seemed at all evil in my author's notes, I'm not really :giggles: **


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